


World Turns to Grey

by StarDrifter759



Series: Darkside [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Actual Dialogue this time, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Forehead Touching, Frank & Karen have a moment, Frank actually makes a real appearance in this one, Past Torture, Post-Canon, Protective Karen, Undressing, Worried Karen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:12:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarDrifter759/pseuds/StarDrifter759
Summary: “Lose your shield over what, Brett?”His eyes held hers before he visibly swallowed and pulled his lips between his teeth, seeming to contemplate his approach. “I uh… got an encrypted email with a video file on it.”





	World Turns to Grey

**Author's Note:**

> hmmm, I realize this is an out of character thing for Brett Mahoney but I really just wanted to play with the what-if of this scenario. 
> 
> Also, I'm making real efforts to do the depth of feeling, and drama that seems inherent in the kastle ship without taking away either character's independence. Especially Karen, who is a tenacious sassy spitfire by nature.

Karen looked up sharply when her office door opened without her permission – or a knock for that matter – and was mildly alarmed to see Brett Mahoney push in closely followed by a clearly harried Mitchell Ellison. Karen opened her mouth to ask ‘what the hell’ but Ellison beat her to the punch. 

“Officer, really I-” 

“Hey Karen, shut those blinds will you?” Brett said over her boss, gesturing to one set of the blinds between her office and the bullpen while he went for the other.

“Brett!” She snapped, annoyed even as she complied. “What is going on?” 

The detective shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. And now that she was paying attention, he looked drawn and harried as well. Something was weighing on him heavily. 

“I’m not here in an official capacity, alright? In fact I could lose my shield over this. So I’m really counting on you returning that solid I gave you by _not_ arresting your ass for helping Castle escape the last time. And I’m also not asking questions about any lies you may have told for him in the past, or may tell for him in the future.” He gave her a significant look. 

By now Karen had rounded her desk and was casually resting a hip against it, arms crossed, face impassive. She let the silence stretch for a few painfully long seconds. “Lose your shield over what, Brett?” 

His eyes held hers before he visibly swallowed and pulled his lips between his teeth, seeming to contemplate his approach. “I uh… got an encrypted email with a video file on it.” He paused there, clearly hesitating. 

So she led him. “A video file?” 

“What was on it?” Ellison interjected. 

Brett swallowed again, before responding. “It’s Castle. Look Karen, have you heard from him, seen him?” 

“I thought you weren’t here to question Karen.” Ellison stated blithely from his perch on the couch’s armrest. 

“I’m not. I’m here because I know you care Karen. I don’t know why, and I don’t want too but I know it’s true. And that means this will matter to you. But it’s not something you wanna see. Trust me on that.” His voice was earnest, matching the worried set of his brows, pursed lips, and intense eyes. 

“What’s on the video, Brett?” She whispered. 

“Castle being tortured.” 

Ellison’s eyebrows shot up, while Karen dropped her arms to white-knuckle the edge of her desk, eyes welling with unshed tears. 

“What?” The word was merely a breath, pushed past her lips unconsciously. 

“The precinct authenticated it. We don’t have an exact timeline for it, but suspect it was after the hotel incident. We’ve positively identified Castle and Russo, there is a third man but it’s not our case anymore. I contacted Homeland and they’ve taken over. Warned us off. I should have turned this copy over too but I figure you’re the last person alive who actually gives a damn about the fricken’ Punisher and deserved to know because of that.” His voice was low and sincere. 

“I want to see it.” Karen’s voice was calm but firm. She had to see it. She had to know. She was holding on with both hands after all. That sort of necessitated bearing witness. 

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Karen.” Ellison’s voice was concerned and fatherly, his trepidation clear. He thought this whole thing was a bad idea. She could read that clear as day on his face. He knew she cared and he didn’t want her to hurt over Frank Castle anymore than she already had. His genuine concern for her warmed her heart, but he didn’t (couldn’t) know that the power to hurt her wielded by Frank was already unmatched. 

“I have to know Ellison.” Her gaze switched from her editor to the now quiet detective. “Do you have it on you?” 

Mahoney moved forward and silently handed her an unlabeled disk. Taking it with careful fingers and a nod she went back behind her desk to insert the disk into her laptop – thankfully old enough to still have a slot for one. Officer and editor followed her, the three gathering around her computer as they waited for the video player to open and load. The audio registered in her brain first. The thud of impact harmonized grotesquely with the grunts of pain and exhales of exertion. Then the visual sunk in. Frank tied to a chair, taking hit after hit, blood covering both him and the assailant – his blood. Wet crimson was last color she saw before the grey leached it all away. 

Karen quickly slapped both hands over her mouth. Desperately trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to escape as tears burst their banks and flooded over her cheeks and fingers to curl down her wrists and disappear past her sleeve. Warm, comforting hands came to rest on her shoulders - Ellison. 

“Turn that off.” He stated in what Karen liked to call his ‘fatherly firm’ voice. Brett reached to comply but Karen stopped him with a shake of her head. The motion dislodging some of the moisture, landing drops bleeding the ink of the _Bulletin_ copy on her desk. 

“No.” Her voice was thick, muffled by emotion as much as her hands. “No, I need to know what happens.” 

“Well the good officer has clearly watched it already, he can tell you.” Again, Ellison’s voice brokered no argument. 

“I can’t actually. The video is legit, we’ve determined that, but it’s also incomplete. It starts mid-game and ends before it’s over. I can tell you that Castle doesn’t die in it, but its not exactly promising on his prospects either. Last thing on it is an armed standoff between Russo and whoever _that_ asshole is about how to kill him. Hell, Russo being on it is why I handed it over to Homeland in the first place. He and the SAC were involved in an armed standoff themselves over Castle – interrupted by my officers - while Wilson had you. “ He said, gesticulating toward her. 

Karen scoffed, hands lowering to her chin so she could speak clearly but ready to fly back up as needed. “Is that why he was in such bad shape, then?” 

Brett nodded. “Far as I can tell Madani had Castle, then Russo shows up and takes a shot at Castle so she turned her weapon on Russo, making sure Castle stayed behind her. And apparently shouted ‘ _You’re gonna wish you shot me’_ as they were being handcuffed; right around the time Castle took a swan dive over the rail. And for the record, that’s why he was in rough shape. It worked but there is no way on God’s green earth he managed a clean landing.” 

The sounds of torture continued in the background, with Karen watching intermittently out of the corner of her eye. Her need to know warring with the fact that she couldn’t stand to see Frank’s life beaten from him; her chest constricted with every blow he received, until she felt like she was suffocating. 

Drowning in monochrome. 

Finally she had to turn away, unable to watch anymore. Ellison’s hands were a comforting, grounding presence on her shoulders still. Karen wiped the moisture from her cheeks as best she could with the continuing stream and felt a rush of gratitude when the editor shifted them around so that he stood between her and the still-playing horror on her laptop. Having people like him and Foggy at her back was one of the best feelings. Only topped by the peace brought to her by a man forever at war. 

This time when Ellison told Brett to turn it off, she didn’t stop him. But she did offer to take care of the disk, ostensibly to save Mahoney an uncomfortable conversation with a certain SAC at Homeland. 

Brett gave her on long look. “On that pier, when you were watching every body that was fished out… I thought you were afraid; but you weren’t, were you?” It wasn’t really a question. “You were hopeful.” 

Karen matched his stare with her own implacable gaze. When she responded her voice was cool and even, without inflection. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded clearly disbelieving. “Of course you don’t.” 

Ellison ended their standoff with a well timed, “I’ll see you out Officer,” as he ushered Brett from of her office.

 

~ >|< ~

 

When Karen arrived home that evening she resisted the desperate urge to put the white roses in her window. She didn’t put them out the next day either, or the one after. She couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her, following her as she went about her routine. And on the chance that those eyes belonged to someone working for Mahoney or Madani – or most anyone really - she was not, repeat not, giving any clue that she had any method of contact with one Frank Castle. She wouldn’t be the bait used to lure him. She wouldn’t let _anyone_ use her against him. 

So she waited. Waited nearly a week for a cheerfully sunny day to shine on dreary New York. After all, flowers need sunlight, and it _was_ a beautiful day. The only calls she received were from sources and Ellison. Thankfully the weather forecasters’ had a bit of unprecedented luck and were right about the sun sticking around for another day. She didn’t want to take the roses from her window but her ruse would demand it soon. 

Already accustomed to the grueling hours Karen put into her work Ellison had bypassed any and all comments about the sharp uptick in her already high productivity, and the accompanying rise in fairly basic mistakes that always come with an exhausted, overworked brain. Her bed hadn’t seen much of her since the night before Brett stormed into her office with a scowl and a disk that put her on the precipice of destruction. 

No. She wasn’t going there. Not yet. It was only the second day since she put the flowers on her windowsill. And if that didn’t pan out she had the address of one David Lieberman. There was not a single shred of doubt in her mind that Micro had sent Brett that file. So he knew. And if Frank doesn’t answer her in a timely manner she knew whose door she’d be banging down for answers. 

Wrapped in a blanket and her thoughts, Karen didn’t react to the sudden blaring of her phone except to put her coffee down and reach blindly for the irritating thing, eyes still trained on story she was working on. It was late – or early depending on your philosophical bend, timepiece wise – but she and Foggy had the tendency to realize the impending need for a Josie’s night when eyeball deep in work at ungodly hours. So this really wasn’t unusual. Besides they hadn’t managed a Josie’s night since he’d insisted on seeing her the night of the hotel incident. 

“Karen Page,” she answered without checking the caller ID. Foggy always got a kick out of it when she opened like that. 

Silence reigned for a moment before a deep, rough voice that certainly _wasn’t_ one Franklin Nelson, greeted her in return. “Hey Karen.” 

It was instantaneous. Life seared through her; heart thrumming to life alongside an explosion of color. “Frank,” his name felt like a benediction on her lips. 

“I uhh, just saw the flowers. Hope I didn’t make you wait too long.” His tone was gentle, concerned and cautious in equal measure. The continued sound, the sound of his voice, alive and real, was breaking her in the best possible way. 

“No, no you didn’t.” She rushed to reassure. “I just put them out yesterday… I uhh, wanted to check on you.” Karen was quite proud that she’d managed to keep the waver from her voice. It was a near thing, but still… It counts. 

“Check on me?” He repeated, voice cheeky and teasing. “I worry you or something, ma’am?” 

She laughed despite herself, high on relief. “Bluntly put, yes.” She stated before her voice dropped to whisper, “I saw a rather disturbing video the other day.” 

The quality of his silence changed, becoming dark and simmering. “You saw that, huh? Gotta be honest here Karen, I wish you hadn’t.” The gruff sound bore a new edge of temper, thankfully not directed at her. She really didn’t want to fight with him now. She’d told him amidst the wreckage of what was a kitchen to call and yell at her if he was still mad about the whole hostage thing and she’d get into it with him then; but here and now, she really didn’t want to. Not after the week she’d had and what he’d clearly suffered in the meantime. 

“Yeah well, I did.” This time she couldn’t keep the waver out. “Have you been checked out? Medically?” 

When he responded he sounded softer, understanding; most likely a response to the thickening emotion coming from her. “I’ve been seen to, Karen, I’m fine.” 

“Now who’s serving bullshit, Frank? I saw that video and there is no way you’re fine.” She bit out, choking back the fresh wave of tears as memory of his beaten form surfaced. He stayed quiet, not disputing her claim. 

Karen took a deep calming breath before continuing, “I want to see you.” 

“I can’t make it down by the water tomorrow.” He said after a brief silence, regret heavy in the sound. 

“No, I want you to come here. And it can be at anytime, day or night, I hardly sleep anyway.” She knew she sounded desperate; she couldn’t have sounded any different if she wanted to. 

A deep labored sigh sounded over the line. “Okay… yeah, uhh, I’m actually just a couple blocks away, if now counts as anytime?” 

“You’re in my neighborhood?” She queried.

The throaty chuckle that comment elicited sent fissures of pleasure through her body, branching out from her spine. “I told you I just saw the flowers, yeah?”

The smile that brought to Karen’s face was – like everything between her and Frank – completely involuntary. “Yeah, yeah you did.” It felt so good to smile. “Turn around, I’ll buzz you in.” 

She hung up, smile still gracing her face as she threw the blanket off her shoulders and moved her laptop on the coffee table. She had no doubt that this was going to hurt, Frank always did. But it was good. To keep herself from staring at the intercom, she grabbed her cold coffee and took it to the kitchen where she started a fresh pot. There was no way in any of Dante’s nine circles of hell that she was sleeping tonight regardless, so why not? Besides, Frank liked coffee, and it _was_ 3:02AM, maybe he’d help her drink it. Crazier things had happened. 

It could have been seconds or hours before the intercom sounded, followed by Frank’s gruff, “It’s me.” She rushed to buzz him in and then waited by the door, eye practically glued to the peephole, heart pounding in anticipation. This would be her first time seeing him in the flesh since he disappeared up an elevator shaft, since she’d resolved to hold onto him with hands. 

And there he was, sauntering down the hallway toward her. Combat boots, jeans, and dark hoodie with the hood drawn, hands in the front pocket. Karen had to swallow the excess saliva that had flooded her mouth at the sight of his familiar stride. She opened the door before he could knock; stepping back and nodding her head back, silently inviting him in. 

He nodded a greeting in return, a slight smile curling his lips as he breezed past her. She felt ridiculous for closing her eyes on her next breath, but it was – again - involuntary. The air stirred by his passing had carried with it the unique scent of Frank, heady and overwhelming. Swallowing reflexively, she quickly closed and locked the door, careful not to slam it before tracing his steps into her living room. 

He filled the space without trying, casually looking at her books, hood thrown back. His smile was more pronounced when he turned toward her, face beautiful despite the slight residual swelling and healing bruises marring the expanse. Intense, coal black eyes zeroed in on her; leaving Karen abruptly aware that she was standing in front of him in nothing but the black leggings and tank she preferred to sleep in, sans bra. 

“Do you want some coffee? I have a fresh pot if you wanna help me finish it.” She offered, feeling suddenly tentative. Goddamn this man and his ability to throw her completely off balance… even if she did kind of like that about him. No other man had been ever been able to do that to her – not even Matt. 

“Later, lets get this inspection of yours over with first, yeah?” He countered, moving toward her.

“My inspection?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“Come on Karen, lets not play. You wanted to see me ‘cause hearing me tell you I was okay wasn’t enough. That’s fine, yeah, whatever you need to put your mind at ease. You got questions, ask, I’ll answer, yeah?” His eyes drilled into hers throughout. 

God this man, earnest and honest; two hands weren’t enough - she was considering using her legs as well. She had strong legs. Finally she nodded in acknowledgement. “Yeah.” 

He gave a ‘come on’ gesture, encouraging her. Stepping close, Karen scrutinized his face. “Teeth?” She asked softly, deciding to start easy. 

Frank nodded solemnly. “A couple,” his voice lowered to match hers. 

Karen let her eyes continue to sweep his face, gearing herself up for the harder questions that she was more invested in. Taking a deep breath she met his unflinching gaze point blank. “Any broken ribs?” She breathed. 

He nodded, “Yeah.” 

Breath stilling in her lungs, she pressed on. “Any complications from those broken ribs?” 

Clearing his throat Frank nodded as Karen’s hand found the zipper to his hoodie and started to pull. Gazes locked, Karen honestly wasn’t sure if she was silently asking for his permission or was in fact outright challenging him to try and stop her. A soft chink sounded as the zipper separated, material slacking around his shoulders. Eye contact unwavering, Frank shrugged – fairly stiffly – out of the garment, letting it hit the floor. “Yeah, a punctured lung.” 

Karen inhaled sharply at that revelation. Fingers closing reflexively on the hem of his shirt she blinked back the fresh round of tears welling in her eyes; eyes that were still holding his. The injuries made removing the shirt a little more awkward than removing the hoodie had been, but they managed. 

Lowering her gaze, Karen tried not to appreciate the play of muscle as he moved, but being only human she could only do so much, and that was beyond her. However the motley bruises across his torso quickly overshadowed her attention. An apparent knife wound accented the colored array with black stitches. She was right back in that elevator, emotion thick in the air as she surveyed his battered body; Frank standing vulnerable before her as she barley managed to hold her tears in check. 

“I was being helped by then,” his voice reached her ears as her hand hovered over the worst of the bruising, denoting the breaks in his ribs. “Madani knew a doc that would help me off the books, she and Lieberman got me there clean. Doc’s damn good at his job that’s for sure. And Lieberman is a universal donor so between them they had me up and running pretty damn quick.” 

She nodded, swallowing around the lump in her throat. His eyes searched her face as she raised her sapphire gaze to conduct her own search. There was so much between them; so much they’d kept unsaid. 

Frank’s voice was thick when he spoke again. “It’s over, Karen.” His eyes were red and swimming again, she closed hers against the power of them, one tear breaking rank to glide down her face. For now, that was enough. No more unsaid things needed air tonight. 

Exhaling a trembling breath, Karen’s heart tried to jackrabbit from her chest as Frank’s brow gently came to rest on hers. His lips were so close, it would be so easy to close the distance between them, to kiss him. But like the unsaid things, now wasn’t the right time. Tonight (today, semantics) his breath ghosting across her lips was enough. The saturating peace of this moment was more than enough. Standing here with him, the world felt right for the first time. 

“Now ma’am, I believe you said something about coffee…”

Karen smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this these glimpses into their world. Feel free to drop a comment for me!


End file.
